


And the Mind's True Liberation

by a_mere_trifle



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Gen, Hippies, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-11
Updated: 2010-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mere_trifle/pseuds/a_mere_trifle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt at the PL fan meme: Flower child/Hippie Luke. Can be older or not. Because we know that he IS one.</p><p>Luke at least had the grace to look embarassed, Flora thought. Looking around this 'apartment' (the 'roommate' had somehow contrived to become terribly offended when she called it a 'flat'), she would've thought he lost the capacity for shame years ago. Crystals-- ugly furniture-- dear god, the <i>colours</i>--</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Mind's True Liberation

And the Mind's True Liberation

may or may not be what you had in mind. either way, i apologize in advance. :D

-

Luke at least had the grace to look embarassed, Flora thought. Looking around this damned 'apartment' (the 'roommate' had somehow contrived to become terribly offended when she called it a 'flat'), she would've thought he lost the capacity for shame years ago. Crystals-- ugly furniture-- dear god, the _colours_ \--

"I thought you said Wednesday," he explained, with another glance at the shut door. It seemed to have quieted down in the main room, but she, for one, wasn't inclined to trust in that.

"This. IS. Wednesday!!"

"...Oh." Luke flushed. "I guess I lost track of time?"

"I thought you were in _school_!"

"I _am_ in school! But I can't just ignore the world around me!"

"I would present this entire flat as counterevidence," Flora snapped, kicking an empty box of tissues out of the way.

"Flora, there's _wars_ going on, there's so much hate, did you hear what happened at--?"

"Right. That's all awful. But does it explain why you are wearing a rainbow-coloured shirt?"

"What's wrong with that?" Luke glared at her.

"Besides that it's ugly? It isn't exactly proper!"

"And what is proper? Women staying at home in the kitchen?"

"Look, _I_ know what you mean, but-- the Professor's getting older, you know! Do you want to give him a heart attack?!"

"He could stand to loosen up, just a little," Luke muttered. "His heart's in the right place, but really--"

"I don't want to hear it! I don't-- want-- to hear it. If you love harmony so much, why couldn't you at least _brush your hair_?! Is that really too much to sacrifice for the sake of harmony?!"

"I DID brush my hair!"

"What, last week?!"

"I--"

"There's FLOWERS in it, Luke!"

"Well-- there was this guy with a guitar on the street corner, he had a seriously groovy thing going--"

"Oh, god." Flora rested her head in her hand. "I'll bet you've killed him. That's why it's so quiet out there. You've killed him."

"I have _not_ ," Luke said desperately. "He wasn't that upset!"

"He's the Professor! For him, that counted as upset!"

"All he said was what in the name of god did I think I was doing and why on earth did my parents ever take me to the bloody colonies!"

" _He's the Professor! For him, THAT COUNTS AS UPSET!_ "

"All that stuff about the mad colonials was a bit much," Luke muttered, looking away.

"But entirely accurate."

"Hey, I--"

"You have flowers in your hair, Luke. Your one roommate, George, left here wearing Tibetan robes. And your other roommate is _still_ walking around _without a bloody shirt._ "

"She says brassieres are a product of the patriarchical subjugation of women."

"Clearly because she has nothing to support." Flora rolled her eyes. "As a female of slightly more ample endowment, I can assure you that the contraptions have their place. Which is _under a blouse_ , for one thing."

"Okay..." Luke muttered. "She's got a bit looney. But it's about righting social wrongs, Flora. It's about ending war and giving everyone an equal chance. It's about loving the universe and everything in it. Is that such a terrible thing?"

"...No," Flora admitted. "But you still shouldn't have let us in your flat. And you should've washed your hair."

"I did wash it!!"

"Fine, fine..." She sighed, leaning against the end-table. "It's just... I don't think he's taking it well. I don't know if he'll understand. He probably wouldn't argue many of your points, but he's so..."

"Square?"

"Proper," said Flora, with a glare.

"Yeah... I know." Luke sighed. "But all of that just gets in the way, so often. Sometimes you need to just do what is right, to say what you feel, instead of worrying about what's 'proper' all the time. Even now, I think he's the most loving person I've ever known-- you know? A lot of these people talk about universal oneness and loving the world and being kind to everything, but I've never met anyone else who actually _does_ it. But that's the thing-- he just does it. He never talks about it. Doesn't even think about it, really. And why shouldn't you? Why can't you just say, 'I love you'? Why can't you just hug, or laugh out loud, or dance in public? What's so wrong with that?"

"..." Flora didn't really have an answer for that. She'd wanted a hug more often than she'd got one herself.

"There's a lot of people who are just using this as a reason to act crazy," said Luke. "And a lot of people who are just being conned. But there's also a lot of people who are just learning to-- love. The world. The people around them. Themselves. And I'm sick to death of being told there's something wrong with that."

"...Might be a bit naive," said Flora.

"The world could use a bit more naivete. Don't you think?"

"..."

Luke stuck a daisy behind her ear. "Besides, I'm reasonably certain that I haven't killed him yet."

"Oh, really? How can you tell?"

"Er... listen closely."

Flora blinked at him, then put her ear to the door. There was some sort of hippie record on, and some woman was singing to it, terribly off-key, and there was another voice as well--

"...Luke?" said Flora. "Is the Professor singing 'Let the Sunshine In'?"

"...The evidence would seem to point in that direction."

"Luke?" said Flora. " _Why_ is the Professor singing 'Let the Sunshine In'?"

"...Obviously I can't be sure," he said, "but I have a working hypothesis."

"Which would be?"

"Er. It is based on certain things that I know to be facts. One: Moonbeam--"

"The shirtless hussy?"

"--is hosting a party tonight. Two: she always bakes for these parties. Three: she always offers food to anyone who comes in."

"Her exact wording was 'Welcoming us to her mystic abode', as I recall--"

"Four: the Professor, being a gentleman, would not be able to refuse such an offer, even coming from a... er... shirtless hussy."

"True," Flora said, her eyes narrowing.

"Five... Moonbeam tends to rely quite a bit on a certain... secret ingredient. Especially in her brownies. And given the timing of when the Professor stopped shouting--"

"Luke?" said Flora, eyes gone dangerous. "What is Moonbeam's 'secret ingredient'?"

"Er--"

"Luke? Did you drug the Professor?"

"What? Me?! I wasn't even there!!" Luke yelped.

"Which is NOT something you should be reminding me of right now-- Luke, is the Professor _high_?!"

"...probably?"

"...I am going to _murder_ you," said Flora, "the very _instant_ I figure out how to do so without getting caught."

"It can't be that bad--!"

"Luke! Flora!" Layton threw open the door. "That topless woman reminds me of a marvellous puzzle."

Flora made a strangled noise, clapping her hand to her mouth.

"Maaaaaarvellous," said the Professor, eyes going a bit unfocused. "That's a delicious word. It tastes like grape. What have you done to your hair?"

"Er," said Luke. "I grew it out. A bit."

"Oh..." The Professor sighed. "Now they'll really think I was a perverted old fop... at least most of them are polite enough to keep it to themselves."

"Er, what?"

"It's pretty, though," said the Professor, beaming. "You always were adorable. Which was also a bit of trouble but I didn't care. I miiiissed you." Layton half-stumbled forward, wrapping Luke in a tight hug.

"Er," said Luke, and patted him on the back, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I missed you, too, Professor."

Flora shook her head, pushing a hand back through her hair. "At the earliest possible convenience," she threatened, somewhat halfheartedly.

"Oh, Flora!" Layton disentangled himself a little. "Did I mention how wonderful you were last week?"

Flora blinked. "Last week?"

"With that dreadful headmistress woman." Layton scowled. "Dreadful."

"...I got expelled from finishing school," Flora said. "You said I was terribly out of line. You sent me up to my room. And that was last _month_."

"Yes," said Layton, "but that was before I had talked to the woman. Spending too much time on mathematics! Bothering people with puzzles! I thought it was a school I sent you to, not some sort of nunnery! And then someone has the nerve to tell you women can't be archaeologists! I would have _slapped_ the woman! If I had been one myself at the time. Which I suppose I couldn't have. Could I? I wonder what it's like?"

Layton stared at the wall for a moment, then shook his head. "Anyway, bloody good show," he said, and opened his arms.

Flora hesitated for a moment, then decided she might as well go with it, and rushed forward to hug them both.

"I wonder why I didn't tell you that yesterday?" Layton mused.

"Maybe this place just has good vibrations," Luke said trying not to grin. "In tune with the universe."

"Oh," said Layton. "I suppose that would explain the walls."

"Walls?"

"Do you have any sandwiches?"

Flora shook her head. "I'm still killing you," she muttered.

"Oh, shut up and enjoy it."

And suddenly, Flora did.

(ep)

"See?" said Luke. "That wasn't so bad."

"Nhn. I'm reserving judgment on that until he wakes up." Flora glanced at the olive-green couch, where the Professor had curled up like a kitten. "What happens when he realizes he was drugged?"

"Well... he is the Professor." Luke shrugged apologetically. "He may not figure it out. Or..."

"Or?"

"I could always tell him it's a new tea ingredient..."

Flora smacked him.


End file.
